“Keep these fellows down while I see if he needs any help.”
But Murphy certainly did not need any help. He was down on his knees on the edge of the landing and was pumping the unfortunate man, now at least half drowned, up and down in the waters of the swamp. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself.
The reaction was too much for them and they both roared with laughter. Murphy looked up at them and grinned. “Pull him out, Murphy,” Mr. Graham shouted, “we may need him at the trial.”
Murphy rather reluctantly pulled the man out of the water and laid him on the landing. Scott had turned from his glance out of the door just in time to see Roberts regain consciousness and make a motion to crawl toward his gun which was lying on the floor near him. He sprang forward and snatched the gun out of his reach. “I did not expect you to come to yet,” he said coolly. “Move again and I’ll fix you right.”
“Well, I guess we have them pretty well rounded up,” Mr. Graham remarked. “Now we’ll tie them up.” He took a coil of rope from a nail on the wall and proceeded to tie their hands and feet. He tied Roberts first and then the man he had choked so badly. Scott leaned over to help him straighten out the man who had been struck back of the ear and Mr. Graham had his first good look at him.
“Great guns, man!” he exclaimed, “you are all over blood. Where were you hit?”
Scott had been too excited to think anything about himself. In fact he did not realize that he had been hit at all, but now that his attention had been called to it he felt the sting of the streak across his neck. “It can’t amount to much,” he explained apologetically, “because I thought it was a powder burn at the time and had really forgotten it till you spoke.”
Mr. Graham insisted on having a look for himself but was soon satisfied that it was only a slight flesh wound. “Lucky for you, though. A half-inch to the right would have cut your jugular.”
The man whom Murphy had shot had received a glancing shot on the forehead and was only stunned. Murphy’s victim had swallowed a quart or two of swamp water and was feeling too sick to offer any further resistance.
“Five desperate characters smoked out of a stronghold like this and tied up without any one being seriously hurt. That is what I call a pretty good morning’s work,” Mr. Graham exclaimed enthusiastically. “If those women have not turned them loose again,” and he bounded into the cabin.